A Friend in Need
by A-blackwinged-bird
Summary: Story complete! Steve goes undercover and Jesse gets caught up in the danger. Thanks for all the wonderful support!
1. Default Chapter

Jesse all but collapsed onto the break room sofa. He wasn't sure who made the bigger sigh- himself or the leather cushions. His muscles thanked him and reveled in the temporary tension relief. This had to be one of the longest days he'd ever endured. Jesse looked up at the wall-mounted clock. Three more hours to go.

He was grateful for one thing despite his weariness, and it was the air conditioning. It was so cool in the break room that he felt his arms begin to erupt in goose bumps. In his apartment, the air had gone off line and it couldn't have picked a worse time to do it. It was the middle of July, the temperatures were becoming unbearable for any length of time, and Jesse had resorted to sleeping naked in front of a box fan set on high for the past two nights.

He draped an arm over his eyes and just rested for a moment, anticipating each call over the intercom as the one that would drag him from his sprawled position on the large couch. The door opened and a soft chuckle told him who it was without looking.

"You poor thing, you look wiped," Amanda said as Jesse listened to her move across the room.

"I am so far beyond wiped it's not funny."

"How much longer?"

"Till people stop getting hurt."

Amanda laughed again. Jesse heard her pull out a chair from the table to his left. "Hey, I know what that feels like. I wish people would stop dying."

Now Jesse chuckled and moved his arm. Man, those fluorescent lights were bright. He rubbed his eyes and turned his head on the couch's arm to look at Amanda. "We still on for dinner at Mark's?" He was always a sucker for free food, and a night with his friends was something he rarely missed out on. Plus, the less time he spent at his apartment, the better. At least until the air was fixed.

Amanda tossed a pen cap on his stomach. "Is that all guys think about, is food?"

Jesse grabbed the cap before it fell to the floor. "Hey, I'm a growing boy," he smiled.

"Yes we're still on, as far as I know," Amanda replied.

Jesse sighed and nestled further into the couch cushions. Maybe, the Gods would smile on him and leave him to rest here for the remainder of his shift. 'Yeah right,' he snorted. 'And maybe it'll be sixty five degrees outside when I leave here,' he thought sarcastically.

Jesse and Amanda sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Jesse counted the number of panels in the ceiling while Amanda flipped through an outdated magazine. As the intercom beeped to life, Jesse righted himself with a gut feeling. As the female voice filtered through the hospital, his pager went off. "Must be messy if they're double hittin' me," he mused, pushing his weary body to it's feet.

"Bye Jesse," Amanda called over her shoulder as he made his way to the break room door. "See you tonight."

Jesse struggled between replying to Amanda and fumbling with the vibrating pager in his hands. "Yeah, to-"

A loud thud reverberated through the room as Jesse's head connected with the wooden door, with enough force to cause him to stumble back.

That'll leave a mark.

"Oh, Jesse, I'm sorry, I didn't see you there-"

"'S okay Mark," Jesse said, straining his eyes to bring the double images of his mentor into one. "Gotta hard head."

"Come here, let me take a look-"

"Gotta go, you can look later," Jessed replied, unconsciously rubbing his head as he darted out of Mark Sloan's reach. Man that hurt. But it would have been funny if it happened to someone else. Jesse smiled at that thought, glad when his vision cleared. Now able to run, he fell in pace with the nurses that were also moving to greet the newest patient.

By the time he reached the emergency room doors, he felt normal again. That is, as normal as he's ever felt.


	2. Chapter Two

The guy was a mess. Jesse barley noted the man's short brown hair for the angry, swollen cut under his hairline. The man's hazel eyes went unnoted for the dark swollen bruises that forced them closed. Blood had run down the man's face from his nose to his pierced ears, most likely as he laid unconscious for help. His right forearm was broken, as were two ribs. Jesse felt empathy for the stranger but sadly, he had seen injuries like these too many times to count.

Jesse rattled off orders to his competent staff as if it were his second nature. Later, he would realize that it was. Sterile needles were inserted into the man's veins, his clothing was cut away, life monitors were hooked up, and in a relatively short time, the unconscious man was stable. Jesse's hands were gentle as he completed a thorough examination of the patient. He had been trained to quickly detect major internal injuries through touch and his sensitive fingers had never let him down.

Once the triage was complete and there was nothing left for Jesse to do, the man was quickly pushed to radiology and immediate clean up of the ER began. Preparation was key here, in the field of emergency medicine. A small staff quickly cleaned all evidence of the beaten man from the room and Jesse felt his adrenaline level beginning to return to normal.

"He gonna make it?"

Jesse jumped as a voice broke through his muted, post-emergency mindset. Some deep part of his mind answered before he became fully aware of who he was speaking to. "Lungs weren't punctured, no brain trauma. He'll be fine in time."

Steve Sloan nodded curtly. "Good. He's the first survivor."

"Of what?" Jesse asked numbly as he shrugged off his soiled lab coat. Between his pre-existing exhaustion and the sudden surge of adrenaline, his body was slowly shutting down.

Steve held open one of the ER's swinging doors as Jesse nodded his thanks and entered the hall first. "There's a small group of anti-gay terrorists that are starting to act out against known homosexuals," Steve explained in a low, but not secretive voice.

Despite his state of mind, Jesse followed what the detective was saying. "So that was a victim?"

"Yeah. And like I said, these guys don't normally play so 'nice'," he emphasized with tone of voice. "Something must have stopped them from finishing the job."

Jesse let Steve's words bounce off him like hail off a patio. He was trying to keep up, really he was, but it was like trying to think through Rohypnol. By pure instinct Jesse was navigating his way to the break room. He felt his eyes slowly closing, his legs were going numb, he felt himself tilting more towards the floor with each sluggish step. He hadn't seen the deserted drug cart until he walked into it. He cursed his senses out loud for not alerting him in time. He felt Steve grab his arm and keep him upright as Jesse pushed the wheeled cart to the side of the hallway, now wide awake. "Thanks," he mumbled with a great deal of embarrassment. Boy, it sure got quiet in here all of a sudden.

"You okay?" Steve asked, pulling Jesse to a stop before releasing his arm. "You seem kinda out of it."

"I'm fine," Jesse lied. It wasn't a big lie. He was tired, that was all. They started moving again. "I think it'll be a while before your victim is able to give a statement."

"I got time."

Jesse never acknowledge the last comment as he pushed open the door to the break room. He had a sudden feeling of déjà vu. He wondered how many times per day _did_ he find himself in here, stretched out on the leather couch that now had an imprint of his body and even _smelled_ of his cologne. Jesse suddenly realized that probably wasn't a good thing.

Amanda was gone now, but Mark was busy making a fresh pot of coffee. Jesse sighed a quick "Hey Mark," before landing on the couch. He would have to look into ordering one of these for his apartment.

"Jesse, I'm glad you're back," Mark said as he turned. Then in a fatherly tone he added, "Let me look at your head."

Jesse groaned and tried to turn away as Mark approached with a pen light in hand. "I'm fine," he mumbled. "Told you it didn't hurt." Just let me sleep.

Steve took a chair next to the one that had his father's lab coat draped over it. "What happened?"

"Jesse, there's a dent in the door. If you don't ice your head soon, you'll have a goose egg tomorrow morning." Mark reached past Jesse's protective arm and expertly pried open his left eye. "Then what will the nurses think?"

Jesse sighed loudly and looked at Mark, his eye watering as the older doctor exposed his eyeball to the bright light and cool air. "Your father hit me with the door," Jesse said to Steve as Mark leaned over him.

Mark huffed as he checked Jesse's right eye. "It was completely by accident."

Jesse blinked as he watched Mark put away his pen light and stand up. "That's what they all say," Jesse teased. Steve was smiling.

"Hey, at least he didn't hit you with a baseball bat," Steve grinned, rubbing his shoulder as Mark returned to the coffee pot. "That hurts."

"Not yet," Jesse replied. "Day's not over."

Mark turned and looked at the two men. "Make fun of me all you want, but just remember, I'm the one who's making dinner tonight."

Jesse sobered quickly. Time to kiss a little ass. His next meal was on the line. "Do you need me to bring anything?"

"Yeah, bring some ice," Mark muttered as he placed the coffee pot back on the percolator.

Jesse quickly nodded and would later understand that the older man meant for Jesse to use the ice for himself. "Sure, I'll pick it up when my shift's over-"

Mark glanced up at the cheap clock that had been given to the hospital from a pharmaceutical representative. "Jess, your shift _is_ over."

Jesse looked up too. A smile crept over his face. "Oh, sweet. In that case, I'm outta here. Bye guys." Jesse pushed himself to his feet with renewed vigor. Amazing what temporary occupational freedom could do for the spirit.


	3. Chapter 3

After he left the break room, Jesse swung by the nurses station to make sure he was no longer needed then headed down the hallway towards the lockers. The bight hospital lights reflected off the smoothly polished tile floor that someone had obviously spent a lot of time and care cleaning. It was the kind of floor that made that satisfyingly loud squeak when your shoes were wet, no matter how hard you tried not to. Jesse never tried not to.

After stopping at his locker just long enough to trade his stethoscope for his car keys, Jesse was on the move. He had to get to his car before the exhaustion caught up with him again. It was following him down the hall like a rabid Rottweiler, and Jesse didn't think he could fend it off for long once it took hold. He rubbed his face and stepped in the elevator, then out when he had reached floor level. A few of the female nurses wished him a good weekend and Jesse wished it could be spent with one of them. His hand was on the glass exit door and momentum pushed him against it before he remembered.

It was _hot_ out there.

Like_, really, really _hot.

Jesse sighed and looked back to the busy hallway with a longing in his blue eyes that was normally reserved for women and food. He weighed his options. Either stay inside, in the air conditioning and temporarily take up residence within the hospital, or, brave the temperatures that were currently sending visible waves of heat off the blacktop, just to get to an apartment that would be equally hellish. Jesse wondered if his refrigerator had melted.

Well, here comes that rabid Rottweiler. He sighed. Go time.

Jesse collected all his courage and shoved his way through the swinging glass door.

A whimper was tore from his throat as the summer air burned his cool skin. He felt like that witch in the movie who melted dramatically in the end. He fought for a deep breath. Wincing in the bright sunlight, he stepped onto the blacktop parking lot. One step closer to his car. Were his shoes melting?

Jesse wanted to spit on the ground to prove that it would evaporate before landing, but his throat was robbed of all moisture. He swallowed dryly. His sudden tunnel vision sure made the car look really far away. A drop of sweat crawled down his spine and Jesse realized he hadn't even moved yet.

Valet parking, that's what this hospital needed. As soon as he got to his apartment, Jesse would sit down and write up a business proposal to hand in tomorrow. Someone could die on the way to their vehicle. This was a safety hazard! But that still left the immediate problem of crossing the Mohave Parking Lot of Death and reaching his car. Was that a buzzard circling above him?

"Do you want a ride?"

Jesse jumped at the voice loud in his right ear.

"Jeez Jess, calm down," Amanda hushed as she grabbed his arm. "You've been acting funny all day."

"Sorry, I- uh... it's hot?" Jesse held his free hand to his forehead to block the sunlight from his eyes. Had his hair ignited? Damn hair gel.

"No kidding Sherlock. Let's go."

Jesse allowed himself to be pulled across the parking lot. He doubted he could make it without her efforts. How had he managed to live here so long and not be this affected before? How could anybody not be this affected? Another hot drop of sweat rolled down his back and suddenly surfing seemed like a really great idea. Right after a nap.

"Get in."

Jesse looked up. Amanda was glaring at him from behind her sunglasses as she stood across from him. He looked down to find himself standing in front of the passenger door of her car. How did he get here? Man, he really needed some Ritalin.

"But my car..."

"I'll bring you back after dinner. Mark was right, you are a mess. Now get in."

Jesse narrowed his eyes at her but obeyed. "I am not a mess," he argued, partly to keep himself awake. He sat heavily on the car seat and pulled the door closed. "I'm a little tired, that's all."

"Why?" she asked as the car's systems came online.

Jesse let his head fall back and he gazed out the window as they left the parking lot. "The air conditioning is out in my apartment. Guess I haven't been sleeping good with the heat."

"Yikes," Amanda replied as she steered the car onto the highway. "When does it get fixed?"

Jesse took a little while to reply. His eyes were starting to close. "Whenever they feel like it."

"Must be horrible."

"Yeah," was all he had the strength to say. Had the Rottweiler gotten in the car? His head slid to the side until it was cradled between the head rest and the window. Now his face was in line with the car's air vent and the freon-chilled air was making him even more relaxed.

"Well I'll come pick you up for dinner tonight, but in the meantime you try to rest, okay?"

"Yeah..."

"But leave your phone on so I can call you before I get there."

"Yeah..."

"I've got some errands to run or else I'd just take you to my house. At least I have air conditioning. I can't believe..."

Amanda's words sounded more and more distant with each breath Jesse took. His neck was bent painfully but his body didn't care. Sleep pulled at him. Within seconds, Jesse slipped into welcome oblivion.

o0O0o

"Okay, you know I believe in girl-power and all that, but I don't think I can carry your skinny ass all the way up to your apartment."

Jesse couldn't help but groan pathetically. The car had stopped. The air was hot. Amanda's voice was coming from his right, which meant she was probably standing there with her hands on her hips and waiting for him to move. Jesse didn't want to move.

"Get out," she urged, grabbing his hand.

"I'm coming," he whined, puling his hand out of her grasp. "Mother," he added out of annoyance.

"I heard that," Amanda tossed over her shoulder after she dropped his hand and had started for the building.

Jesse grumbled to himself and got out of the car. He felt disoriented and light headed, the way he always felt when prematurely awoken. He hated it. "You're going to pick me up to go to Mark's, right?" he called as he shut the car door.

"Yes, I'll be back in a few hours. Can you make yourself presentable by then?"

Jesse looked at his wrinkled clothes. What was wrong with the way he looked now?

"I know what you're thinking."

He caught up to her at the door. "I don't look that bad," he confirmed.

"Honey, please. Don't even go there."

If he had more energy, he would be insulted. "Thanks for the ride," he sighed. Jesse reached for the door handle but yanked his hand away. "It's hot," he explained at her concerned expression.

"Is your phone on?" she asked wearily as he tried again.

Probably. "Yes."

"Good. Leave it on. I'll be back."

She turned and left, walking briskly over the roasting black top parking lot. "Bye," he called after her, but if she heard him, she made no acknowledgement. Jesse tucked his hand under the hem of his shirt and used the fabric as protection from the burning metal door handle. He heard Amanda drive away as he quickly ducked in the apartment building.

Jesse swore out loud at the wall of heat that met him. How was it possible that the it was hotter in here than outside? A small group of men with the familiar logo of an igloo on their uniforms were carrying tools to and from the basement. Jesse took some satisfaction in watching them sweat and work in the obviously uncomfortable conditions. 'God's speed,' he prayed, then nodded politely as one very tall and muscular man looked angrily at the doctor as he walked around Jesse and went outside.

By some tiny miracle, the elevator was fully functional and saved Jesse the expense of hauling himself up endless flights of stairs. He always thought the stairwells smelled a little odd. Kind of like a cross between stale socks and smoke. Jesse shivered at the memory.

Jesse pulled out his keys and stepped off the elevator into the visible haze of heat. Jesse remembered then that heat rose. "Sucks to be me," he sighed and let himself into his apartment. He leaned on the door to close it, resting his eyes and body before tossing his keys on the small table he'd picked up at a yard sale years ago.

His shoes were kicked off and accidentally hit the baseboard, scuffing it. Whoops. What's one more scuff on the wall, anyway? Jesse headed to the first of his strategically placed box fans and turned it to high. Good God, was the aquarium water boiling? Jesse bent closer and tapped the glass. The lone survivor looked for all the world like it was panting under water. It's friends were floating on the surface like the elderly patients in the hydrotherapy program. Double whoops.

"Didn't like you guys anyway," he tried to tell himself to ease the disappointment. They were, after all, just an attempt to feel less lonely without indulging in a major commitment. Stupid fish. Jesse started towards his bedroom while peeling off his damp shirt. It landed in a pile by the door and Jesse realized he would have to wash the laundry soon or he'd be forced to steal intern's scrubs again.

Jesse quickly changed out of his work pants and into a pair of khaki cargo shorts, then turned on the second box fan and stood in front of it for a moment. His skin chilled as the strong breeze rushed over him. His eyes closed and he relaxed until he felt himself falling forwards. Quickly regaining his balance, Jesse headed into the small kitchen to grab a bottle of water.

Five minutes later found Jesse still standing in front of the open refrigerator, seriously considering unloading the thing, taking all the shelves out, and crawling in. It would be a tight squeeze, but he might fit. The contents were mostly half-empty condiment bottles anyway. He listened to the motor's beckoning hum as cold air filled his immediate surroundings. He imagined himself sitting in there with his knees to his chest and his arms around his legs, and most importantly, out of the scorching heat. Jesse had his hand on the half empty bottle of mustard when he realized the absurdity of it.

"Stupid," he mumbled to himself as he headed for his bedroom. He would need a pillow.


	4. Chpater 4

"...Jesse?"

"Open the door, we're going to be late..."

His feet were numb. Jesse opened one eye and quickly closed it again. He mumbled to himself as he tried again, this time blinking both eyes open and looking around the ceiling of his apartment. Was someone calling him? More importantly, what was he doing on the kitchen floor?

"Jesse, I'm counting to ten..."

Jesse ran a hot and sweaty hand over his face, which was in the same condition. Man it was hot. He could feel the sweat evaporating off his bare arms and shoulders. Jesse looked down at his feet in curiosity and was surprised to find them resting on the bottom shelf of his open refrigerator. That explained some things.

"Five..."

Jesse pulled his bare feet to the floor as he struggled to get up. With the support from his legs removed, the refrigerator door gently closed itself and the motor worked at chilling the interior. Jesse stumbled when his foot bent awkwardly under him and grabbed the counter for support.

"Two..."

"I'm coming!" he yelled in frustration. He managed to snag a T-shirt from the floor before hobbling across the living room to the door. Jesse cursed to himself as he stumbled once again and fell against the front door.

"Jesse?"

He unlocked the door and quickly opened it. Amanda stood in the doorway, eyeing him quizzically and making Jesse feel modest under her scrutiny. He pulled the thin T-shirt over his head and asked, "What?"

"Don't take that tone with me young man," Amanda began in her 'mother' tone. "Didn't I tell you to leave your phone on?"

Jesse patted his pockets and looked at the floor for a moment in concentration. The phone was on, wasn't it? He pulled out the small cell phone and flipped the cover open. The battery was dead. "I-"

"I don't want to hear it," Amanda interrupted but Jesse knew she wasn't really mad. "Are you going out dressed like that?" She folded her arms.

Jesse held his hands out and looked down at himself. "What's wrong with-"

"Nothing, if the new look is imitating the geriatric patients."

So his clothes were a little wrinkled. This might take a while. He sighed. "Come in. Have a seat while you wait. Mom." He turned and ducked his head belatedly after Amanda smacked him from behind.

"Brat," she muttered and followed him into the living room.

He went in his bedroom and grabbed the bottle of liquid wrinkle releaser off his wooden dresser. When he was sure she couldn't see him, Jesse sprayed the product liberally to his clothing before setting it down and stretching the fabric. He would have to invest stock in this stuff. Jesse grinned as he thought about how his 'lazy way out' would annoy Amanda. He loved teasing her. He grabbed his comb and ran it over the top of his head once before tossing it back on the dresser and returning to the living room. "Okay, let's go," he said as he bent to pull on his sneakers.

Amanda studied him. She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Men."

"Women," he retorted just because he knew she would smile.

She rolled her eyes again and followed him out the door. "How do you stand this heat?" she asked as he shut and locked the door.

"I don't," he replied, wiping the fine sheen of sweat from under his eyes. "I spend all my time at other people's houses."

They walked down the stuffy hallway towards the elevator. "At least you won't have an electricity bill, right?"

"I'd rather have the air conditioning."

"Me too."

Downstairs, the men from the repair company were still carrying tools from their van to the basement and back again. They looked very hot, tired, and pissed. The large man from earlier glared at Jesse, making the doctor feel as small as he really was. Inwardly, Jesse cursed his genetics.

The ride to Mark's house was pleasant and comfortable. When they weren't discussing the latest news in medical research, Jesse and Amanda were content to simply listen to the radio and enjoy each other's companionship. The car rode smoothly over the familiar two lane highway that stretched alongside the ocean. Outside, the sun shone brightly through clear skies. Evening was approaching but the season had stretched the daylight hours to their maximum. Jesse absolutely loved the summertime.

Unless the air conditioner was broken.

"Has Steve talked to you about his new case?" Amanda asked, breaking the silence.

Jesse tried to remember. "The homophobic thing? Yeah, he wanted to talk to the guy who came in earlier. Said this was the first survivor."

"It's so sad. I've had four bodies in the past couple weeks. It's just awful what's been done to them."

Jesse's stomach gurgled quietly. Had it really been that long since he ate something? "Yeah, but they'll catch the guy now that Steve's on the case."

Amanda smiled as she turned the car onto the road leading to Mark's house. "You got that right," she agreed. "Maybe we'll get to help out too."

Jesse grinned as they eyed each other. Amanda seemed to be competitive by nature and Jesse's long years spent fighting for his mother's attention made him a worthy competitor for her. Whenever possible, they fought each other for the clue that would crack the case with a gentleness that would put some siblings to shame.

As the car drove closer to the large, welcoming house, Jesse looked out to the ocean. The tides pulsed against the shore in a steady, hypnotic beat and the wave crests glistened in the sun as they broke. The clean, smooth sand stretched beyond the realm of the naked eye, littered only by sun-bleached driftwood. This was the scenery that defined California. This was why Jesse loved it so much.

"Waves calling to you?" Amanda asked gently, the way you speak when you don't want to ruin the moment.

"Always," Jesse replied. "I'm just glad Mark let me leave my board here last time."

Amanda steered the car along the Sloan driveway then parked. "He knows you've got surfer blood running through your veins."

Jesse grinned as they got out of the car. "And proud of it!"

He followed Amanda to the heavy front door of the Sloan's house. She stopped on the front step and rang the doorbell, then took a step back to wait. Jesse rolled his eyes. "Oh come on," he said as he brushed past her and opened the door, letting himself in.

"Jesse!" Amanda scolded, but followed.

"What? He knows we're coming."

"Where I come from you don't just let yourself into someone's home!"

"This isn't 'someone's' home Amanda, it's Mark and Steve's home. They don't care."

Jesse continued towards the kitchen and only half-listened to Amanda mumbling about five-year-olds behind him. "Hello!" Jesse announced as he rounded the corner to the large, bright kitchen. "We're here!" There, that was fair warning.

Mark looked up from a large mixing bowl on the counter, salad tongs in hand. "Hey Amanda, I was just about to call you but I guess I forgot that Jesse can smell my cooking from across town."

"Sorry Mark, he pulled the leash right out of my hands."

Jesse ignored the ribbing and felt his stomach gurgle again when he realized just how appetizing the food smelled. It was lasagna, and it was one of Jesse's favorites. He would be forever indebted to Mark Sloan for the free homemade meals alone. Certainly beat Hot Pockets. He took a seat on the bar stool opposite from Mark and tried not to act like his stomach was eating his abdomen from the inside. "Is Steve here yet?"

Amanda took a seat at the pre-set dinning room table as Mark replied, "He called a few minutes ago to tell me he was on his way. Didn't sound too happy though, I'm a little worried."

"Maybe I just need to kick his butt on the Playstation later," Jesse thought out loud.

Mark smiled. "There'll be plenty of time for you kids to play after dinner," he teased.

Jesse set his elbow on the counter and rest his head in his hand as he looked out the glass patio doors. The sun was slowly sinking into the horizon, taking the edge off the searing heat outside. Each wave that crashed to shore seemed to have his name on it. Jesse made up his mind to get out there tonight. With a sigh, he turned his attention back to Mark as the older doctor pulled the steaming pan of lasagna from the hot oven.

"Jesse, stop drooling and have a seat over here," Amanda said.

Jesse swallowed. "I'm not drooling," he argued mutely. Obediently, he crossed the room and sat beside Amanda.

Just as Mark placed the seemingly heavy pan on top of two potholders that had been strategically placed on the table, the front door closed and keys jingled as they were hung on a wall hook. "Hello?" Steve's voice sounded from the foyer.

"In here son," Mark called as he straightened. Steve rounded the corner and the dinning room's occupants smiled in greeting. "Perfect timing."

"Sorry I'm late," Steve sighed as he headed to the kitchen sink to wash his hands. "There's been some developments in the case."

"Grab the plates," Mark said quickly after he sat in his chair at the head of the table. "So you've found out who's responsible?"

Steve carried the stack of four thick plates to the table and took his seat. "We've had our suspicions and after talking to the guy Jesse treated today, they were confirmed."

Jesse found himself under light scrutiny for a moment and he had the good graces to smile and look down. His stomach was about ready to climb up his esophagus and help itself to the dinner. Curse his metabolism anyway.

Steve continued as Mark began serving the steaming food. "Since the homicides are so brightly in the media's spotlight, the chief wants to make sure there is no way these guys can get off the hook."

"Playing your hero status?" Amanda questioned. "Give the precinct a popularity boost?"

Jesse watched numbly as Mark passed a plate to Amanda. Steve took a drink from the glass of water before him. "I hear the plans for a new forensics lab is up for debate with the city."

"So catch the bad guys and you get the grandeur and the favoritism and hopefully, a new crime lab," Mark concluded, handing a full plate to Jesse.

Steve sighed. "Something like that." He accepted the plate from his father and set it on the table in front of him.

Jesse let the conversation carry on around him as he concentrated in replenishing his energy and calming the pain in his stomach. He always thought better on a full stomach anyway. Mark offered him the bowl of salad but Jesse refused on the grounds that lettuce was rabbit food.

"So how does this involve you?" Mark asked with a dreadful tone as he handed the bowl to Amanda.

"They're sending me undercover to infiltrate the terrorist group." He sighed. "I leave tomorrow morning."

"Oh Steve," Amanda breathed as she placed her hand over the detective's.

Mark looked at his plate for a moment longer. "How long?"

Jesse set his hand and mouth for autopilot so he could participate in the conversation. He looked at Steve and noticed for the first time tonight how disappointed the older man really looked.

"Not long," Steve replied as he ate his first bite of the dinner. "These guys are homophobes, not geniuses. Most of the work is already done. A week, tops."

Jesse sighed quietly when he felt the air change to that of disappointment. Steve had become the bigger brother he had always wished for when the playground bullies got too rough, and the best friend that always agreed to his mischievous stunts, no matter what the price. Jesse was sure he could manage one week... seven days... 168 hours without that close friendship. He had managed all his life, hadn't he?

"Wait a minute- what about Bob's?" Jesse interrupted his own thought, and managed to surprise his companions. "You're not gonna make me work every night this week by myself, are you?"

Steve smiled for the first time that evening as he met Jesse's gaze. "Of course not. The place would burn down." Jesse's jaw dropped but before he could retort, Steve continued, "Part of my cover is that I manage BBQ Bob's. Looks like you're stuck with me, partner."

Jesse relaxed. He loved that restaurant, but it thrived on the partnership between Steve and himself and Jesse knew he wouldn't be the only one who felt the loss if Steve were forced to leave. Once that fear was calmed, he resumed eating with a more peaceful state of mind.

"You won't be able to come home at all?" Mark asked, turning the conversation to a more serious note once again.

"If anything were to turn sour, I don't want you anywhere near me," Steve explained. "I won't put you in danger."

Jesse cleaned his plate and helped himself to seconds unnoticed.

"At least swing by the hospital once in a while so I can see you," Mark replied.

"I think I can manage that," Steve said with a small smile. "I'm a big boy dad, I can look after myself," he added to appease his father. "Unlike dork-boy over there who still has his name on his underwear."

Jesse looked up sharply. His eyes narrowed and a hand went to the waistband of his boxers. "It was you!"

The table erupted in laughter. Jesse remember the night at the new restaurant when a customer asked to see their drink menu. Slightly embarrassed but mostly apologetic, Jesse had told the guy that such a menu hadn't come into existence yet. The customer waved it off and happily ordered a beer, but after closing that night, Jesse approached Steve. Neither of them had much experience with what Jesse dubbed 'fancy drinks' so the two had experimented in the dim back room long into the night, writing down their successes and still enjoying the buzz from the failures. It was one of the best nights of Jesse's life, and as much as he felt a stronger bond with Steve the next day, he was also largely perplexed as to who had inscribed his name onto the waistband of his boxers. Now, the answer to that mystery sat across from him in a fit of hysterics.

"Hey, it was payback for hauling your sorry carcass home that night," Steve laughed as he struggled for breath.

"And just how did we get home, _detective_?" Jesse prompted, smirking evilly at Steve before glancing to Mark.

When Steve narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw, Mark spoke up. "Steve, I believe Dr. Travis asked you a question."

"You are so dead."

Blue eyes met blue as Jesse and Steve stared at each other tensely. "Uh, boys..." Amanda's voice broke, like the moment you realize something bad is going to happen.

Jesse shoveled the last forkful of lasagna in his mouth before exploding from the chair and leading Steve on a chase through the large house. Jesse was gone before his fork hit the plate and Mark and Amanda were left to finish their dinner in silence, punctuated by the occasional crash and yelp from somewhere in the house.

"They were meant for each other," Amanda mused.

Mark winced when a body hit the floor. "At least they provide good job security for me," he sighed.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Sorry I'm late today guys! I am the new proud mother of a second German Shorthair Pointer. I purchased 'Crash' on Labor day when he turned seven weeks old and the little devil has been keeping me and my four year old female 'Lucky' very busy...

o0O0o

The chase had paused when Jesse fled to the garage and grabbed his surfboard. He had managed to escape the trained detective with only minor bruising this time. He was getting better.

Jesse's sneakers squeaked on the concrete as he slid to a halt in front of the surfboard propped up against the far wall. He grabbed it and swung in in front of him in defense as Steve ran into the dim garage. "Stay back!" Jesse yelled, accidentally hitting Steve's truck with the board.

"Jesse! Watch where you swing that thing!"

"Sorry."

"It's okay. No harm done."

The two looked at each other a moment longer before Jesse held the surfboard close to his body and fled out the side door. The air was still hot but not nearly as uncomfortable as it had been this afternoon. Jesse quickly stepped to the side of the house and pulled off his left sneaker. His heart thudded in his chest as he tried to breathe quietly through his nose.

Steve stepped outside a moment later with his own surfboard in tow. The second he was in full view, Jesse hurled his shoe at the detective and ran the best he could towards the ocean.

"Ow! Get back here!" Steve yelled as he gave chase to the energetic young doctor.

With the ease of someone who was frequently chased, Jesse took off his other shoe without missing a step. He turned to throw it, but the tail of the surfboard under his arm caught in the sand and he stumbled. "Shit," he muttered, dropping the shoe to regain his balance. Steve was catching up now, and Jesse ran faster into the water.

The chase ended mutually when both men rode their surfboards towards the vivid orange and purple horizon. "Sure is pretty," Steve said as he paddled beside Jesse.

"Yeah," Jesse replied with a soft voice. He was already panting from his run, but the serenity of the sunset seemed to help even out his breathing. This was everything he had been wishing for after such a long and hot day. The water was warmer than usual but it still served to cool his body. Jesse noticed then that he was still in his regular shorts and thanked fate that along with the surfboard, Mark had also let Jesse keep a change of clothes in the beach house. It was too late for a wet suit or even trunks at this point. The ocean licked his thighs, adding weight to his khaki shorts and seeping through to his boxers. He might as well enjoy the spontaneity.

Jesse and Steve sat in awed silence for a few minutes as they observed the magnificent display of the setting sun on the ocean. Blinking himself out of the trance-like revere, Jesse glanced back to shore and reached over to shove Steve's shoulder. "Race back to shore?"

"You're on."

Both men paddled out a few more strokes while putting the distance of a few feet between them. While Steve was a skilled surfer, Jesse was occasionally more so. His size and surprising strength often gave him the edge when Steve wasn't concentrating enough. Jesse turned his board so that it pointed towards the shore and crouched on it, poised to catch his wave. He was barely aware of the heavy weight of his wet shorts as he instead focused on putting himself in position. Steve was further away now, ready to catch the same wave. Up ahead, two backlit figures appeared on the patio of the beach house.

Jesse felt the wave swell and rise underneath the surfboard. This was it. He stood and quickly placed his feet, bent his knees and found his center of gravity almost simultaneously. The wave carried him as if it understood his intentions and Jesse couldn't remember the last time surfing was so much fun. It no longer mattered who got to shore first. Jesse was caught up enjoying the moment.

The wave continued to shrink until it melted into the clean sand. Jesse stumbled a little as the surfboard sank suddenly, then hopped off and picked up the board. Steve arrived seconds later.

"Good ride," Steve commented, following suit and stepping into the wet sand.

Jesse simply nodded, looking out onto the darkening horizon in appreciation. When he turned back to the detective, Steve was looking at him expectantly. Jesse grinned and pulled up his shorts against the extreme pull of gravity. "Wanna fire up the Playstation 2?"

"Never thought you'd ask."

The two stuck their surfboards in the sand side by side then bounded up the deck steps en route to the back door. Mark and Amanda were sitting at the patio table, talking quietly and obviously enjoying the radiant sunset. Mark was dressed down and wearing his favorite button down short sleeved shirt, which was blowing slightly in the gentle ocean breeze. Amanda was dressed to impress, as was her habit. Mark and Amanda stopped their conversation when the two men reached the deck.

'Mischief,' Jesse thought with a gleam in his eyes. He pulled up his heavy, dripping shorts which had settled low on his hips and ran to Amanda. Before a Sloan could shout a warning, Jesse pulled her against him and effectively saturated her clean clothes before she jumped to her feet and pushed him away.

"Jesse!" She shrieked, and Jesse was proud even as he stumbled back. "You little brat!" Amanda shot a deadly glare at Mark and Steve to silence their laughter before she began wringing out her clothes. "Do you have any idea how much this outfit cost? If it is dry clean only you _will _pay the bill, Travis." She paused, looking in Jesse's eyes. "Do you know what you remind me of? A big, dopey Golden Retriever!"

Steve bent over in laughter and turned away as Mark agreed. "You know, she's right Jess. I mean, you're always good-natured, you assume everyone's your friend, you love the waterâ€ and you'll eat just about anything that's put in front of you!"

Jesse let his jaw drop with false indignity. "Hey- I resemble that remark! Come on Steve, let's go."

Steve picked himself up from where he was currently convulsing with silent laughter and obediently went inside. Jesse shot one more challenging look at Mark and Amanda before she called out again.  
  
"Hey plumber boy, pull up your shorts!"

Jesse made an exaggerated show of doing so and followed Steve with a smile on his face.

When the sliding glass door shut, Mark and Amanda were left grinning at each other and at the watery footprints left behind on the wooden deck.

o0O0o

"Thanks for the ride," Jesse said as Amanda stopped her car next to his Mustang.

"No problem Jesse, I'm glad you had fun tonight. You feelin' better?"

After stepping out, Jesse shut the passenger door and leaned on the frame of the open window. "I am. It was the perfect way to start my day off."

"The amazing Dr. Travis has a day off?" Amanda asked with a teasing smile.

"Well, Dr. Travis has a day off. Now it's Chef Travis' turn."

"That's what I thought. You work too hard, kid."

"Don't I know it," Jesse sighed as he started to back away. "Gotta pay the rent on that fine apartment of mine."

Amanda laughed and Jesse smiled from watching her. "Maybe I'll talk Mark into stopping by for lunch tomorrow."

"Sounds good. See you then." Jesse straightened as Amanda put her car in reverse then returned her goodbye wave. He was left alone in the quiet parking lot of Community General Hospital. Jesse pulled his keys from his pocket and started the short distance to his car. The only sounds were the lonely chirps of nocturnal crickets and Jesse's overworked mind translated the noise into the beeping of a heart monitor. He shook his head and stopped to unlock the car. "I need to get out more," he said quietly to himself.

Jesse opened the door and tossed the plastic grocery bag of wet clothes into the back seat before settling himself behind the wheel. He and Steve had holed themselves up in the den for a couple hours while they competed against each other on the Playstation. He wondered when Steve had found the time to get so good at the games that Jesse use to reign supreme over. Shaking his head at the memory of Steve's last minute come-back, Jesse started the car and left the parking lot.

Still under the influence of the last racing game, Jesse drove a little faster than normal and returned to his apartment in record time.

Yeah, the air conditioning was still broken.

Jesse trudged into the elevator, barley noticing that the repairmen had long since abandoned their job for the day. The plastic bag plopped to the floor by his feet as he pushed the button for his floor. "Doors close on ground level, open on my level," Jesse narrated. This was one of his bad habits, if that's what talking to yourself classified as. Jesse knew it was sad, but occasionally being caught narrating himself wasn't enough embarrassment to make him stop. He grabbed his bag and drug it down the hall with him, stopping again to unlock the door to his sauna- apartment.

Jesse stepped into the dark cave of heat and figured that turning on the overhead light would only make it worse. Instead he clapped- he got a kick out of that every time- and illuminated a table lamp in the corner. The lone survivor of the small aquarium looked at him in wide-eyed surprise. Jesse kicked the door shut. Hadn't there been a South Park episode centering around a demonic fish like that?

Jesse left the bag of wet clothes by the door in hopes that it would remind him to wash his clothes tomorrow. Actually, there were clothes strewn out all over the apartment so he shouldn't have _that_ hard of a time. He turned the latch on the deadbolt with one hand and began peeling off his T-shirt with the other before the metal had fully slid into the doorframe. The shorts went next, landing somewhere near the small couch. His kicked shoes added another scuff to his growing collection on the baseboard of the white wall.

Now the warm air was free to circulate around his bare skin and Jesse barely glanced at the contents of his refrigerator still on the kitchen floor as he headed straight to bed. Tomorrow he could sleep in, until nine at least, before he would have to be at BBQ Bob's. He fell face down on the mattress, set his alarm clock, and promptly fell asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning proved to be just as hot as all the previous mornings that week. Jesse acknowledged the small gift of being able to dress casually today and lovingly adorned a pair of shorts and T-shirt before heading to the restaurant. This was one of his favorite places to be and no matter how much he complained about the night shifts, Jesse didn't think he'd have it any other way. The young doctor always thirsted for activities to keep himself busy. He didn't understand how other people could be happy to just sit around and watch TV all day. At the restaurant he was always meeting new people or catching up with old friends. He was proud to call the friendly atmosphere of BBQ Bobs one of his creations.

After entering through the back door, Jesse took the chairs off the tabletops and set them on the floor. The lunch crowd starting arriving around eleven. Steve would be in soon to help cater to the rush. Jesse smiled as he remembered all the times he and Steve had been the only two working. No matter how rushed and hectic things got, they always worked together and prevailed. Nights like those always resulted in goofier-than-normal after hours clean up. Jesse was Steve's self proclaimed little bother and he always acted like it, especially when they needed to wind down.

The first customer to arrive was a middle aged guy with large arms and a no-nonsense disposition. Jesse did his best to make friends but the man's eyes remained hard despite his returned pleasantries. Adapting his mannerisms to what he hoped would be more appeasing, Jesse took the man's lunch order then quickly became involved with the next customers.

Some time later, Jesse was just serving the man in the corner when Steve appeared behind the counter. "You got everything under control?" Steve asked as Jesse returned.

"When don't I?" Jesse asked as he tossed the order tablet on the counter between them.

"Oh, you know, eighty percent of the time."

"But I handle things. That's why I'm an ER doctor," Jesse replied as he narrowed his eyes and pointed at Steve.

"Point taken." Steve nodded towards and elderly couple in a booth. "I see Mr. And Mrs. Jones are here, it must be Wednesday," he commented with a smile.

Jesse smiled too; the couple were two of their most special customers. Every year they brought Jesse and Steve an array of homemade Christmas candy, and the thought did not go unnoticed by the sweet-toothed young men.

Jesse turned to Steve with a new thought in his head. "So how's the 'you-know-what' going?" he asked, lowering his voice. "Need any help? Can I assist in solving a crime?"

Steve's eyes darted around the room. "Shhh," he scolded and turned away from the customers. "No, you cannot help. I am a detective, I do this for a living. You are a doctor."

"But we both work here."

Steve closed his mouth and squinted at Jesse. "What has that got to do with anything?"

"I dunno, sometimes if I just say whatever's on my mind, your dad tells me that I've solved the case..."

"Don't you have a customer to wait on or something?"

Jesse peered into the kitchen. "Not for another three minutes."

Steve rolled his eyes.

Another round of customers came in and after they had been taken care of and their meals prepared, the two men found themselves at the counter again. Steve looked serious as he started, "You know, I've been wanting to ask you something. A favor."

Jesse cocked his head as if the motion would help him read Steve's mind. "What kind of favor?"

Steve sighed then looked Jesse in the eyes. "You can never tell Dad I asked you to do this," he warned.

"Cool! You are gonna let me go undercover!"

"Jess- no. I already covered that, check your notes. I want you to stay at the house with Dad this week. I think he gets lonely. I know you can keep him from sitting around and worrying about me. What do you say?"

Jesse's eyes softened with understanding. "Oh, sure. I guess. I mean, it'll be nice to sleep in the air conditioning."

Steve's brow furrowed. "You don't have air?"

"It went out a while ago. I think the repairmen get paid by the day."

"That's perfect. I'll tell dad that's why you need to stay with him. Thanks Jesse."

Jesse glanced to the floor. "Um, I'm kinda in a state of emergency with my clothes, do you think I could do a couple loads at your house while I'm there?"

"I'd say that's a fair trade," Steve replied as he monitored the customers. "I'll call him later to let him know."

"Oh, well, he should be here in a little while, you can tell him then."

"What?" Steve asked a little too loud.

"When Amanda dropped me off last night, she said they would stop by for lunch-"

"No, Jesse, that was the whole point of me leaving! I don't want anyone to be able to tie Dad to me!"

Jesse rolled his eyes. "Steve, come on. We're working. I don't see any homophobic gang members milling around," he said, sweeping his outstretched arm around. "Relax."

Steve grabbed Jesse's arm and pushed it down. "It's not like gang members walk around in matching outfits Jesse."

Jesse pulled away. "You know what I mean. You should be so lucky as to have a dad who _wants_ to see you."

Steve's face softened and he sighed. "Okay. You win. He's just an old man stopping by for lunch. Heck, half our customers are just as familiar with us."

Jesse grinned. "Well now that you got that crisis under control, how about helping me wait on these people?"

o0O0o

Another hour elapsed before Mark and Amanda entered the restaurant. Jesse glanced at the clock. 12:45pm. Fashionably late, just as doctors should be.

"Hey guys, grab a seat," Jesse welcomed as he followed the pair to a table. "Amanda, are you going to make me give you a menu?"

"What's the special?"

"Barbeque."

"Boy, that is special," Amanda replied as she rolled her eyes. "Just get me what I always have. Oh, and get me a real waiter while you're back there."

"That hurt," Jesse replied, placing a hand on his heart and giving her one of his best kicked puppy faces.

Mark chuckled. "You might not want to tease him Amanda," he said. "He's probably the one preparing your meal."

Amanda grabbed her fork and pointed it at Jesse. "You do anything like that Jesse Travis and I will personally see to it that you are the next body I examine."

Jesse took a step closer to Mark and cleared his throat. "So what can I get you?"

Mark placed his order and Jesse left, then returned with drinks and left again when more customers walked in. He was still busy when Steve brought out the plates of food.

"Here you go guys," Steve announced as he placed each plate on the table.

"Hey, what do you know, a real waiter just like I ordered," Amanda said.

Mark looked at Steve. "How are you s-Steve?" he asked.

Steve glanced around the restaurant before sitting down next to his father. "I'm okay dad. I wish you wouldn't worry so much."

"You're in law enforcement. I can't help it."

Steve sighed and looked away.

After a moment, Mark asked, "Are you sure you're okay?"

Steve nodded. "I'm actually a little worried about Jesse. Did you know that the air conditioning in his apartment is out?"

Amanda nodded. "I was there yesterday. It's bad. I don't know how he stands it."

Mark looked at the young man standing next to a table where to business men were seated. "That might explain some of his odd behavior recently."

Amanda looked at Steve and the two smiled. "You left that wide open Mark," she laughed. "It's too easy."

Mark looked confused for a moment before he too smiled. "You're right, he's always a little odd." Mark's smile faded a little as he turned to Steve. "I could invite him to stay with me until it's fixed. He doesn't need to suffer when the spare bedroom is available."

"He'd appreciate it dad," Steve replied.

A few minutes later, the doctor in question appeared before them. He waited until Amanda took a bite of her food before he whined, "Steve, you weren't suppose to serve that until after I spit on it."

Amanda glared at him and Jesse smiled. "I still can if you want me to," he said, leaning towards the table.

"Get away!" Amanda laughed, pushing on his stomach with enough force to cause him to take a step back.

Jesse pulled up a chair and sat next to Steve so that they were almost shoulder to shoulder. "Why wasn't I invited to this little get together?"

"Your invite must have got lost in the mail," Amanda replied sarcastically.

Mark interrupted the bickering. "Jesse, I would like you to stay at my house for a while. At least until your apartment is back in a livable state. Now don't argue son, it's for your own good."

Jesse glanced to Steve. "Okay."

Mark blinked. "Uh, great. Well, I'm glad that's settled. Now we can eat."

"Now you can eat," Steve said as he stood up. "Me and shorty have customers to tend to."

Jesse found himself being hauled to his feet. "Hey, I was 'tending'," he complained. "You're the one who sat here first. I was just following your example."

"Yeah, well follow this," Steve ordered as he drug Jesse towards the kitchen.

"Bye guys!" Jesse called before he turned away and followed Steve.

o0O0o

Night had long since fallen outside BBQ Bob's and the last of the dinner crowd was walking through the exit door. "Thanks guys!" Jesse called to them as he headed to the table. The overhead chime above the door was left ringing in the customer's wake and Jesse breathed a sigh of relief.

"Good night," Steve commented.

Jesse agreed. They had been busy this evening and the cash register drawer was full to prove it. He and Steve had worked hard and earned gracious tips from the delighted customers. Jesse knew he would sleep good tonight.

"Heads up!" Steve yelled as he threw a cleaning rag at Jesse.

Jesse caught it awkwardly and snatched his tip money from the table before wiping it down. "So where are you staying during this top-secret ultra-dangerous undercover gig? Somewhere nice, right?"

Steve laughed from the kitchen. "I wish. I'm in one of those apartments off Vine street, by that coffee shop."

"You mean your life may be on the line and they put you up in one of _those_ apartments? The roof leaks!"

"And how would you know, Mr. Lives-Without-Air-Conditioning?"

Jesse turned the chairs upside down and set them on the table as he smiled at the memory. "Hey, I know people, okay? Very pretty people with very pretty-"

Steve dropped a pan and Jesse wondered if it was on purpose. "All right, that's all I need to know."

Jesse smiled and moved to the corner table. He grabbed the bills and shoved them in his pocket before his something nagged at him and he took a step back. "That's weird," he spoke out loud.

"What?" Steve asked as more dished clinked together.

"Did you see who was sitting at this table?"

Steve glanced at Jesse then went back to his task. "Yeah, some guy. He was alone."

Jesse searched the table as if it were an x-ray concealing a medical condition. "That's who I saw sitting here too, except I served him lunch." He looked at Steve. "He was here an awful long time."

Steve shrugged. "Maybe he got stood up. Faithfully waiting for a date that never shows, you know how that is, right Jess?"

Jesse continued wiping the table. "Oh you're funny," he mumbled just loud enough for the detective to hear. "Really freakin' hilarious. No wonder you have no friends."

"I'll have you know I'm a very popular guy."

"In what way?"

"In the I'm-A-Nice-Guy sorta way."

"Yeah. Whatever."

"You're my friend."

"Because your dad pays me five hundred dollars a week to hang out with you."

"That hurt, Travis."

"Life hurts, Sloan."

Steve and Jesse looked at each other from across the room. The testosterone level was almost palpable. Jesse tried to remain straight-faced but it was hard. Their stare-offs were frequent but Jesse was usually the one to look away first. Apparently Steve was really into head games like that. Jesse figured he learned it from 'cop school'. "Alright," Jesse started as he broke into smile. "You win."

"Remember that," Steve said with a pointed finger.

"It's okay, I'm the one that gets to go to your home and eat a home-cooked dinner with your father."

Steve looked dejected for a moment. "I'm thankful that you are," he replied as he looked down.

Jesse studied his friend's body language and decided the jokes were over. "You want me to bring you some leftovers?"

"It's okay. I'll take something from here." Steve put on a brave face and smiled. "I really am happy you're doing this Jess. It means a lot knowing that dad will have something to keep him occupied. And out of trouble."

Jesse felt the sparkle in his eyes. "Oh yeah. We can stay out of trouble, no problem."

Steve looked up. "Jesse..." he warned with a tone that reminded Jesse of his kindergarten teacher.

The two friends made short work of the rest of the after hours tasks and were soon locking up the restaurant. Somehow even when the place was empty, it still had a good feeling about it. It was hard to have a bad experience in this atmosphere. Jesse followed Steve out into the rear parking lot as the detective pulled the locked door shut. "See you tomorrow?" Jesse asked as he pulled out his car keys.

"Bright and early."

Jesse shook his head as he moved towards the dark Mustang. "I go in to the hospital at nine. I'll see you here in the afternoon."

Jesse opened the car door as Steve moved towards his own car. Just as Jesse sat down, Steve said, "Hey, tell dad I love him."

"Awww, that's so cute. Do you want me to kiss him for you too?"

"I'd say yes, but you probably would," Steve muttered as he got in his own car.

Jesse made sure there was seriousness in his voice when he replied, "I'll let him know."

Steve started his car's engine. "Thanks. See you tomorrow."

Jesse nodded as he shut the driver's door. He returned Steve's wave as the detective drove away. Now he only had to make a quick stop by his apartment to get his clothes then he could join Mark in the large, air conditioned beach house. Jesse thought that sounded really good about now. He started the car and the digital clock read 10:34 as a loud Aerosmith song filtered through the speakers, the volume startling him before he reached over and turned it down.

Jesse took a deep breath and let his head rest against the seat as he closed his eyes, letting the day's tension leave his body. In half an hour he could be in bed, getting a good night sleep. After quickly collecting his energy, Jesse began his drive into the night.


	7. Chapter 7

Fifteen minutes later found Jesse preparing to leave his apartment, trying to figure out how to get the four heavy bags of laundry to his car in one trip. At a quarter till eleven, it was way too late to be tackling complicated problems like this.

He sighed and looked around the apartment while sitting on one of the nylon bags, taking a moment to reflect on the room's cleanliness. "I should do this more often," he spoke to the staring fish. "The place looks a lot bigger."

The fish agreed.

"Alright," he sighed, standing up. "Time to get this show on the road." Jesse grabbed two sets of drawstrings in each hand and hauled the bags through the door in a burst of energy. Smiling at his accomplishment, he said goodnight to the fish and locked his apartment door. Now for the hard part.

Jesse was panting by the time he made it to the elevator and just plain exhausted by the time he got to his car. He was sweating after loading two bags into the trunk and the other two in the small back seat. Jesse sank into the driver's seat and allowed his weary body a short break before starting his journey to Mark's house.

As he looked down to turn on the radio, Jesse missed the movement of a black sedan taking up a predatory position on the road behind him.

o0O0o

The next morning, Steve was awakened by the alarm clock automatically filling the room with the voice of an annoying radio personality. He groaned and rolled over, away from the dawn's warming sun that pressed down on him through the window. Steve reached towards the bedside table in an effort to hit the 'off' button of the small black clock. When his hand hit his gun, he sat up and remembered where he was.

The small apartment was actually pretty nice considering the price tag. Steve had only taken small notice of that since the police department was paying the rent, but it was affordable. There was only one bedroom, a bright kitchen, a large living room with sliding glass doors that led to a balcony over looking the pool, and a moderately sized bathroom. Overall, it reminded Steve of Jesse's bachelor-style apartment.

Steve got out of bed and finally turned off the radio. They shouldn't let hosts like that on the air at eight in the morning. It could ruin a person's day. Steve stretched and headed out to the living room, and the real reason he was in this particular apartment.

A movement below caught his attention and Steve looked just in time to see a young blonde dive into the deep end of the still-watered pool. He watched in a dreamy haze before he remembered the other reason he had chosen this apartment. He grabbed his police-grade binoculars and searched the targeted apartment in the complex across from his. A known member of the terrorist gang was living there, and Steve's apartment had the perfect inconspicuous vantage point. Looking across the pool and playground area, Steve could see into the criminal's apartment undetected.

Last night had not revealed anything of use for the detective. The criminal known as Tony Darnell got home late and seemingly went straight to bed. Frustrated, Steve had done the same. The guy's car had been bugged by Steve himself with a tracking unit to aide in the investigation. Not seeing any movement within the apartment, Steve sighed and set the binoculars in their place on the floor. He glanced at the pool. He picked them back up. Scolding himself, he set them back down.

Steve had just finished pouring the milk into his bowl of cereal when a rhythmic beeping started in alarm. He looked to the small flashing red light of the GPS vehicle tracking unit set up under the window. Curious, Steve carried his bowl across the room to stare at the screen.

o0O0o

"Jesse, I'm heading out! There's a plate for you in the microwave!"

A few moments later, Jesse realized that someone was talking to him. "What?" he called out, but it was muffled by the pillow he was face down on.

He heard a sigh, then the voice was closer. And slower. "Me work now. Food in microwave."

Jesse picked his head up and looked around. It looked like he was in the guest bedroom of Mark's house. "Oh yeah." He looked at the digital clock and focused harder on the red numbers. Eight o'clock. I_Eight o'clock!?_

Jesse jumped out of bed. His shift at the hospital started in an hour. With groggy panic, he ran to the door and flung it open.

"Sleep well?" Mark stood in the hallway, arms crossed and an evil smile on his face.

"Mark!" Jesse was stunned as sleep still clung to him. "I-"

"You're late?" Mark asked. "I made as much noise as I could this morning. You sleep like the dead. Now I have to go, your breakfast is in the microwave."

"Thanks," Jesse replied, his mind finally coherent enough to think clearly. "I owe you one."

Mark laughed as he walked down the hall towards the front door. "One? Oh Jesse..."

Wanting to supply a comeback but more afraid of being late, Jesse opted to shut his mouth and take the world's fastest shower. Once he was finished, Jesse ran into a problem. A huge one.

"My clothes!" Jesse stood in the bedroom with a large towel around his waist and an 'I Am So Screwed' look on his face. When he arrived at the beach house late last night, Mark had been sleeping so Jesse chose to wait till morning so he wouldn't wake the older doctor. Now, he only had half an hour for the hour-long process.

Jesse cursed under his breath as he dug through one of the good-sized bags and dug out an outfit. He ran it to the laundry room and shoved the clothing in the washing machine, dumped in a scoop of detergent and turned the dial to 'on'. Jesse let the lid shut with a metallic clang as the unit filled with water. "Come on!" he urged, but the Sears appliance continued at it's own pace.

Jesse growled as threw his hands up in the air. After tightening the towel around his waist, a gurgle in his stomach ordered him to the kitchen. After setting the microwave for thirty seconds, Jesse grabbed a fork and a glass of milk, then his warm plate and sat on the couch. Watching a little TV wouldn't hurt anything since he already had to wait for the stupid washing machine.

About 17 minutes later, the buzzer went off signaling the clothes were clean. Jesse raced to the laundry room and grabbed the wet clothes out of the washer and threw them into the dryer with lightning speed. He was already planning on wearing damp clothes, knowing they wouldn't get completely dry in the remaining time. Oh well, wouldn't be the first time.

Jesse tightened his towel once again before nervously straightening everything he had displaced this morning. Time had slowed to the achingly slow pace that always occurred when you were running late for something important. Jesse started praying to the traffic gods that he may be blessed with green lights this morning.

When he had waited until the last possible second, Jesse opened the dryer and ducked at the wave of dry heat that billowed into the room. He dropped the towel and pulled his boxers from the small heap of hot, damp clothes and proceeded to get dressed in record time. The '_Hurry Hurry Hurry _' mantra chanted over and over in his head, pushing his movements even faster.

Jesse ran to the bedroom to grab his wallet, then stepped further in the room when he saw his keys on the floor. "Alright, that's everything," he said aloud as he turned on his heels...

... and landed face down on the carpet with a surprised cry. Jesse pushed himself up right and glared at the offending laundry sack. "Tryin' to trip me huh?" he threatened as he rose to his feet. "That's it, you're coming with me." Jesse grabbed the evil-minded bag by the drawstrings and started pulling it towards the door. A sharp pain exploded in his shoulder. "Stupid heavy sack of..." he trailed off, grunting as the bag slid across the floor. He really needed to work out more.

Jesse reached the doorway and stopped, rubbing his shoulder. As vengeful as he was feeling right now, he didn't have time for this. The laundry's punishment would just have to wait until he got home. Jesse glanced one more time at the clock beside the bed and cursed. He was late. "Great," he muttered and turned to leave.

That's when it caught his eye. Jesse stopped and squinted at the window. Something marred it's perfect clarity. Something round. A bug? Jesse cocked his head and stepped closer. It was a hole. A perfectly round, small hole.

"What the..."

Jesse turned around and found another hole in the opposite wall. Jesse crossed the bedroom for a better look.

Realization hit like a really big, speeding train.

It was a bullet hole. Numb with shock, Jesse reached out to touch the hole in the smooth white wall. For a split second, his heart stopped.

His hand was covered in wet blood.

Jesse yelped and jumped in panic. Suddenly his heart was pounding in his ears as he looked down at the pain in his shoulder. The muscle wasn't sore from the heavy laundry sack, he had been shot. Rich, warm blood had soaked his clean dress shirt down to the elbow. His own blood was glittering in the innocent morning light. He was bleeding.

Now that Jesse was aware of the wound, it began to throb with fiery pain. Completely in shock, Jesse used his bloodied left hand to cover the open wound. Applying pressure sent a whole new kind of pain through his body, Jesse leaned against the wall before sliding to the floor. He had been shot. A bullet had traveled through his arm and was lodged in the wall of Mark's guest bedroom. _He had been shot.  
_

With a hand that was shaking worse then some Parkinson's victims, Jesse reached his sticky hand into his pocket to dig out his cell phone. He was going into shock and he knew it. His mouth was dry and the world around him was fading away. He struggled for a deep breath. But he needed help. The simple act of pushing the number one button on his small phone caused enough pain to elicit a whimper.

His breathing was fast and shallow but he needed to pull it together long enough to call for help. He had been shot in the shoulder, not the chest. He wasn't going to die. It was just a flesh wound. Jesse swallowed thickly as he struggled to let the doctor within him ease his panic. With a tremulous hand, Jesse raised the cell phone to his ear and listened to it ring once before it was answered.

"Hello?"

Jesse smiled through the pain. Mark only answered so informally when the caller ID revealed Jesse himself, Steve or Amanda as the caller. "Mark? It's me."

"Jesse? You were suppose to be here fifteen minutes ago. Is everything alright?"

Ha. Understatement of the century. "Well, um... no." Jesse tilted his head back against the wall with a grimace as a wave of pain pulsed through his arm.

There was a pause and Jesse guessed that Mark was waiting to find out if it was a joke. "No? What's wrong?"

Jesse swallowed a hard lump in his throat as he looked down to the growing puddle of dark blood collecting on the floor under his elbow. "Well-" his voice broke, "I think I've been shot."

Jesse heard a loud thump and Mark's voice rose in pitch. "Shot? Good Lord Jesse, where are you?"

He swallowed some more pain before answering. "I'm still at your house."

"Stay there. I'm on my way."

"Okay," Jesse replied softly and he hoped Mark heard him. Darkness was seeping into the room at the edges of his vision and Jesse felt his strength leaving him as fast as his own warm blood.

"Stay with me Jesse," Mark's voice interrupted. "Talk to me. Where are you hit?"

Jesse thought he heard the sound of a car starting. "Um, my shoulder." He didn't have the strength nor the will to elaborate. He looked over his knees to the small droplets of blood on the clean carpet, letting his vision blur for a moment. He was getting tired.

"Did you see who shot you?"

"No... through the window." Jesse found himself staring at the sunlight pouring in through the bedroom window and wondered if this is what it felt like to die. To 'see the light'.

"Like a sniper?"

"Yeah..."

"So someone did this on purpose..." Mark's voice trailed off. "Any idea who?"

Jesse winced as he pulled himself to a more comfortable position against the wall. His arm ached relentlessly as fresh blood continued to drip from his elbow like water from the faucet in his bathroom. He was making a huge mess and didn't even want to guess how many pints of blood was seeping through the carpeting.

"Jesse!"

"What?" he countered, then heard a door slam downstairs. His heart crawled into his throat in an effort to hide since his wounded body could not. Mark was still talking as Jesse set the phone on the carpet and sat still, listening to heavy, hurried footsteps. He knew he was going to die now. He was sitting here like a broken-winged bird while his death was closing in. He would never get married. Have kids. Tell his friends how much they meant to him. Jesse swallowed and tipped his head back against the wall, powerless to do anything but wait for his killer and pray for a quick death.

The door was pushed open so hard it bounced off the rubber stopper mounted low on the wall. Jesse winced and looked at his executioner...


	8. Chapter 8

"Jesse!" Steve gasped and all but fell to his knees before the bloody doctor. "Thank God!"

Jesse looked up into concerned blue eyes as he felt strong hands on him. He blinked and noticed Steve's lips were moving. Jesse struggled to pay attention.

"...gonna be okay, the bullet went through." Steve smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Did you see him Jess?"

Jesse's mind struggled through the tangled infusion of adrenaline and endorphins. Part of him was still fearing the perceived approach of the killer while part of him wanted to simply surrender in the actual safe presence. "Steve?" was all he managed on this breath.

"Come on Jess, stay with me for a minute." Steve glanced up at the open bedroom window before returning his hard gaze to the doctor. "We gotta get outta here now. Think you can help me?"

A corner of Jesse's mouth curled. Sure, no problem Steve. In fact, I'll race you.

Before Jesse could open his mouth, Steve grabbed him by the good arm and around the waist then began struggled to get both bodies to their feet. As Jesse found himself being slid up the wall, he finally asked, "What's the hurry?"

Steve's face tightened as he fought against Jesse's sagging weight. "Darnell is most likely still around," he grunted, letting go of Jesse's hand to grab the wall for support. "If this shot was meant to kill you, you'd be dead."

Jesse swallowed thick and dry. "Way to cheer a guy up," he panted, cringing as he moved his right arm too quickly. His attention was torn between attempting to keep his arm still and trying to make his feet move. He was beginning to get worried, why wasn't the bleeding stopping? As a doctor, he could figure why but tried to stay away from such worrisome thoughts for now.

"You still with me?" Steve asked, shifting his weight and Jesse felt the detective's grip tighten around him.

"I'm here," Jesse smiled. His eyes were growing heavy and sweat was beginning to cover his body from the exertion.

The stairs were a blur for Jesse. He was only aware of taking three small steps but somehow, Steve was now guiding him to the front door. Jesse could see his Mustang outside, waiting faithfully. Beside it was Steve's car. The sight relieved Jesse and another smile broke out on his face. He hoped it wasn't deliria.

"Alright buddy, not much further," Steve's voice soothed. "When this is over, remind me to send you my dry cleaning bill. Blood is horrible to get out."

Jesse stood a little straighter in Steve's arms. "Peroxide," he mumbled as his mind finally began to dissipate the chemicals clogging his nervous system.

"What?" Steve asked as they took the final step towards the front door.

"Peroxide will get blood out," Jesse stated. "Everyone knows that."

Steve glanced down at Jesse. "Really?"

"Isn't this cute," a harsh voice interrupted just as the pair crossed the beach house's threshold.

Jesse felt Steve jerk then tense before he too turned towards the voice. A tall bald man with a thick torso pushed away from the exterior wall on which he had been casually leaning against. Jesse's attention was drawn to the glint of the deadly gun in the man's right hand as it was brought up and aimed at Steve.

"Give," the man commanded, reaching out with his open left hand.

Jesse felt the air grow colder as Steve remained still a moment longer before reaching for his side and handing over his weapon. Jesse watched the transfer as if all of their hope was in the police-issue gun that the bald man had just shoved in the waistband of his jeans. Jesse's gaze wandered up to the guys face and suddenly Jesse remembered him from last night. The first customer. Jesse had waited on this guy less than twenty four hours ago.

His realization went unnoticed as the man's face relaxed, as if this was a common occurrence for him. "All right fags, get in the car."

Jesse looked behind the man and noticed a black sedan parked with it's nose to the highway, so that it was prepared for a quick departure. A lump of dread dropped in his stomach with the grace of an overweight cat.

"Let him go Darnell," Steve tried, not moving towards the black car. "He's injured."

The barrel of the gun remained locked on the detective. "I'm well aware of his physical state," Darnell shot back. "Now get in the car," he ordered once more, "or I'll shoot him now." The gun swung to face Jesse as Darnell locked dangerous brown eyes with Steve.

Steve took a deep breath. "Alright, we're moving," he complied.

Jesse felt Steve begin walking forward and was forced to follow. His mind was swirling with possible outcomes of this situation, none of which were pretty. The ground crunched under their feet as he and Steve were herded towards the ominous black car. Why hadn't he just stayed in bed this morning?

"You got quiet all of a sudden," Steve mumbled in his ear.

"Being kidnapped does that to me," he replied, struggling to keep the fear out of his voice.

Steve stumbled forward a few steps as Darnell barked out, "Shut up!"

Jesse caught sight of the gun pressed into the small of Steve's back. The throbbing in his shoulder was becoming secondary to his fear of the near future. Jesse didn't want to end up like the mutilated bodies on Amanda's autopsy table last week. She had shared the details with him while he had been watching a Baywatch rerun during a lunch break. All he could remember was that the perpetrator knew what he was doing and how to make his victim endure as much pain as possible before meeting a unjust death.

Darnell moved in front of them and opened the car's back door. "Get in."

Jesse glanced at Steve, hoping to catch a signal from the detective that he had a plan, but all Jesse could see was Steve's sick smile of defeat. It reminded Jesse of the smile a dog gives before it pukes at your feet. Jesse let his eyes drop to the sand before Steve's firm hand guided him into the Cadillac.

o0O0o

"Jesse!"

Mark thundered up the steps with enthusiasm he thought he had lost years ago. He had been en route to the beach house when he lost contact with the young doctor. Mark's heart beat a little faster and his foot fell upon the car's accelerator a little heavier as horrible images ghosted into his mind. He couldn't remember exactly when Jesse had crossed the line from good friend to second son but it didn't matter. The younger man needed a family and Mark wanted a bigger one. Things felt good.

Mark reached the top of the steps and entered the spare bedroom. A jolt of worry coursed through him at the sight and smell of blood. A still-wet smear ran down the wall about five feet before pooling in the tan carpet fibers below. One of Jesse's laundry sacks lay beside the doorway, bulging with clothes. A small silver cell phone lay open on the floor as a screen-saver innocently danced across the display.

Jesse was no where in sight. Mark slipped into observer mode and moved away from the warm red stain and towards the window. A small bullet hole marred the window pane, the edges of the hole to spider-webbing outwards. Mark gazed out the window at the small dune where now the only movement was that of the tall beach grass swaying in the breeze. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, demanding the answers come to him.

Mark turned around to face the blood stain again. There was a good deal of blood there. Probably enough to make the wounded man unsteady on his feet. Mark hoped an artery hadn't been severed.

"Oh Jesse," Mark sighed to himself, returning downstairs. "Why do you always get yourself into these things?" Mark remembered with bitterness the day the hospital psychiatrist suggested that Jesse's subconscious was seeking attention from the people around him to substitute for the lack thereof during his childhood. Mark never referred any of his patients there again.

Mark noticed the plate was gone from the microwave and he took comfort in knowing that at least Jesse had eaten breakfast. The young doctor's digestive tract was still set to 'college student' and would eat just about anything, especially when it was free. Mark remembered the days when he could eat macaroni and cheese for breakfast.

The doctor stopped in the doorway of the front entrance and visually swept the area outside. That's when he realized that Steve's car was in the driveway, parked innocently behind Jesse's sports car. Mark walked the length of the driveway and began searching the cars for any sign of disturbance. There were no slashed tires, no body damage, no broken windows. Mark walked around Steve's car once before something on the passenger seat caught his attention.

Mark stopped and cocked his head before raising a hand to block the sun's glare off the window. A small, laptop sized unit sat on the seat, beeping and flashing a small red light steadily across it's screen. Mark watched for a moment before understanding what he was looking at. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed the number for the police station with a new theory on what had happened to his sons.


	9. Chapter 9

Jesse closed his eyes as a wave of pain seared his throbbing shoulder. He tried to move away from the pain but unfortunately, his shoulder simply followed him.  
  
"Hey, you okay?" Steve murmured, turning his head to face the doctor.  
  
Jesse took a deep, silent breath before answering. "Yeah, great," he breathed, glancing at the back of Darnell's head. "You?"  
  
Steve ignored him. "Shouldn't you be putting pressure on that?"  
  
Jesse flinched at the thought of the pain that would cause. Jesse decided that the cinema had majorly screwed up by falsely representing this kind of injury as more of an inconvenience than the debilitating agony that it really was. Those hot-shot movie actors were full of it. As soon as he was back in his apartment, he was going to write some letters on what being shot _really_ felt like.  
  
"Jesse, come on, I don't want you passing out on me." Steve started as he took off his outer shirt and began ripping it. "I'm sorry I got you in to this but I promise, I will get us out."  
  
"I know you will." Jesse tried to turn away when he saw Steve holding up the strip of fabric but in the back seat of a car, there's not many places to hide.  
  
Steve made a reprimanding face. "Would you hold still?" he snapped, but looked at Jesse with kindness. "Don't look, it'll only hurt for a second."  
  
Jesse took a breath as if he were preparing to dive into the deep end of a pool and turned his head to the window. A new flare of pain ignited in his arm as the detective quickly cinched the makeshift bandage tight and tied it. A small yelp escaped Jesse's lips and he shifted, hoping to cover the sound. When he turned back to Steve, the detective was eyeing him wearily.  
  
"You okay?" Steve asked.  
  
Jesse nodded. He rubbed the wetness out of his eyes and tired to blame it on the afternoon sun. Maybe now he would stop bleeding and be of more help to Steve when they figured out a way out of this mess. "Thanks," he mumbled, glancing at the back of Darnell's head. So far, the guy hadn't said one word since the car started moving. Jesse was thankful and a frightened at the same time. He'd rather have a sane, angry terrorist over a calm, psychotic one.  
  
Another thing bothered Jesse; the fact that the guy hadn't tied them up or blindfolded them. This creep was either extremely sure of himself, or sure of the fact that Steve wouldn't dare leave his wounded friend alone in the hands of this man. The fact that Darnell hadn't bothered with a blindfold told Jesse that wherever they were going, Darnell had no intention of letting them go.  
  
The car drove purposefully through downtown and into the warehouse district of the city. Jesse thought they might have crossed a time warp and entered a scene from an old Starsky and Hutch episode. Any minute now, a striped red Ford Torino would come barreling around the corner of one of the large, gray buildings. The streets were empty, trash lay on the ground where the blacktop met cinderblock, and so far the only living being Jesse spotted was a plump, streetwise pigeon. Perfect place for a murder. Or two.  
  
He felt a warm hand on his knee and Jesse turned to look into Steve's powerful gaze. Maybe the detective was just putting on a tough front, but it helped calm Jesse's overwhelming apprehensiveness nonetheless. His mood changed. If he was gonna die, then damn it, he had a right to know why. "I must have screwed up your order pretty bad for you to get back at me like this," he directed to the back of Darnell's bald head.  
  
Darnell shot him a look in the rear view mirror. "What the hell are you talking about?"  
  
"Last night, at Bar-B-Q Bob's. You were the first customer."  
  
There was a husky laugh in the front seat. "That's what you think this is about?"   
  
Jesse glanced at Steve. "So this is just for fun?"  
  
"Oh cut the crap queer. You're here because scum like you should be exterminated."  
  
Jesse was silent for a moment. "Doctors?" he pushed.  
  
"Jesse..." Steve warned.  
  
"Listen to your boyfriend and shut the hell up," Darnell snapped, signaling that he was through talking.  
  
Jesse looked at Steve with wide eyes. "You're my boyfriend?"  
  
Steve smacked Jesse on the head. "Just stop talking, alright?"  
  
The movement was forced and Jesse knew that Steve was trying to keep a brave façade for his sake. Jesse's gaze landed on the two guns lying on the passenger seat and closed his mouth, losing his smile. He would keep quiet if it might help keep Steve out of trouble. Outside, the sky lost it's mid-afternoon brightness as the sun began slipping towards the earth. They had been driving for a long time now and Jesse was sure that they were lost. They looming buildings became more lonely as the car passed by. There wasn't so much as a street bum outside. Just tall, empty buildings that completely lacked personality or hope.  
  
When Jesse was sure he couldn't take any more of the repetitious scenery, the car turned into a dark, cave-like parking garage that tunneled into a monstrous warehouse. The car was plunged into darkness and Darnell turned on the headlights to help navigate through the dimly lit concrete dungeon. Jesse looked to Steve. Their journey was nearing it's end.   
  
Darnell's ears raised a fraction as he smiled. Up ahead, a small group of men had gathered in the furthest corner of the garage from the entrance. Two more dark cars were parked side by side off in the shadows. The wide, circular concrete support pillars spread throughout the private space like silent witnesses. A heavy feeling of panicky dread boiled in Jesse's stomach. Maybe if he prayed hard enough, he would wake up before this nightmare took a turn for the worse.  
  
The car stopped. "Alright girls, we're here."   
  
Darnell grabbed the reflective guns before opening the door. He shoved Steve's gun in his waistband as he got out of the car. Darnell opened the door on Jesse's side and immediately pointed the gun at the doctor. "Out," he ordered. The men in the corner were starting to creep forward now.  
  
Jesse swung his torso to gain momentum for the rest of his body. He eyed the approaching gang wearily as Steve emerged from the car behind him silently.  
  
Darnell shut the car door. "I'd like you to meet some friends of mine," he said as if he were introducing some of his oldest pals.  
  
Steve's chin rose a little higher and Jesse tried to relax at the detective's confidence. "Hey guys," Jesse croaked out with a small wave.  
  
A rough shove from Darnell sent him stumbling into the closest thug's grip. Instantly the group closed around Jesse and Steve, effectively subduing them both. Jesse was pulled along by the calloused hands of a tall, heavy-set man with closely shaved dark hair. Steve stumbled beside him in the hands of his captors as the group moved into the shadows, towards a couple of wall-mounted light fixtures spaced about six feet apart.  
  
"String 'em up there," Darnell ordered, motioning with a quick wave of his hand.  
  
Jesse clenched his jaw against the pain as his arms were forced together in front of him then tied tightly together with what looked like baling twine. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the same being done to Steve. Other than a hard glare that let bad guys knew he meant business, Steve offered no other retaliation. Jesse looked back to his own hands.  
  
"Looks like we scored double this time boys," Darnell started as he paced the small space in front of Steve and Jesse. "Not only are these to pricks fairies, but this one's a cop." Darnell stopped with an evil smile aimed at Steve.   
  
Darnell's henchmen quickly yanked Jesse's hands up over his head, eliciting a muted yelp which sent the doctor's gaze to the ground indignantly. The same was done to Steve, but where the detective was tall enough for his bound wrists to contact the light fixture, Jesse was roughly shoved up the wall in order to immobilize him. When the powerful men stepped away, the shorter doctor was left standing on his toes.  
  
The gang eyed its' captives in the same manner that Jesse had seen his junkie patients long for a fix. "You see," Darnell continued, his eyes roaming amongst the garage's occupants, "We don't much like cops around here, do we fellas?"  
  
A collective negative murmur rose from the group of five men.  
  
"And we 'specially don't like queers."   
  
As if part of a well-rehearsed play, two of the meaty goons stepped forward and threw their weight into a solid punch to each captive's midsection. The air was forced from Jesse's lungs so fast his throat itched. His desperate gasps were echoed by Steve as his wrists momentarily supported all of his weight, setting fire to the wound in his shoulder. His struggles were torn between dragging oxygen back into his body and locking his knees to take the pressure off his wrists. The last time he had been nailed that skillfully was the first and last time he showed his face at high school football practice.  
  
Steve ground out, "Do you know what you're getting yourself into, Darnell? Are you really dumb enough to mess with a cop?"  
  
Darnell stepped forward to stand in front of Steve. "I think I'd be doing the force a favor by disposing of your sorry ass. You and your piece of ass over there," he emphasized with a sideways jerk of his head.  
  
Jesse lifted his head just in time to watch Steve lash out with his foot, landing a solid kick in Darnell's stomach. The gang leader doubled over and stumbled back a few steps, into the supporting grip of a tattooed man. Darnell looked up in embarrassed anger and barked, "Get them!"

o0O0o

Mark looked at the chaos surrounding his once peaceful beach house. A number of marked police cars littered the front lawn and driveway as an even greater number of uniformed police men combed the house and driveway for evidence. As much as he tried to stall them, the police had called in a medical examiner to describe the events involving the bloodstains in the guest bedroom. With a sigh, he watched Amanda Bentley add her car to the number out front and walk hurriedly towards the house.   
  
"Mark! Are you alright?" she exclaimed as her walk turned into a jog.  
  
When she reached him, the two embraced momentarily. "I'm fine, it's the boys I'm worried about. They're gone and we're all wasting time here!"  
  
Amanda eyed him with more scrutiny. "What happened?"  
  
Mark took a breath and shifted his weight. "Jesse called me this morning. He had been shot. Looks like a sniper had been on the dunes."   
  
Amanda's worried gasp interrupted him. "Jesse was shot? Why didn't you call me? Where is he?"  
  
Mark grasped her hands in his. "I was on my way when I lost contact with him. I got here and he was gone. Steve's car is here, so he must have gotten to Jesse." Mark sighed. "There's a tracking unit in Steve's car. I'm afraid that whoever he was undercover staking out has somehow turned the tables and taken both Steve and Jesse."  
  
"Why aren't the police busy going after them?"  
  
"This guy is dangerous," the police captain interrupted as he approached. "If he really has Lieutenant Sloan and Dr. Travis," he said, emphasizing the question, "There's no telling how he will react to the threat of a police force on his tail."  
  
"But my son-"  
  
"You're son is one of the finest men on my team. I have no doubts that the situation is under control." The influential man started to turn away. "As soon as Darnell is holed up, we'll move."

o0O0o

Jesse shut his eyes half a second before the lead pipe bounced off his ribs. He had long since given up the fight to stay on his toes. He simply hung limply against the gritty concrete wall and felt the blow reverberate through his bleeding body and down his spine. He gulped for air, his mind and body at war with each other as both threatened to shut down.   
  
The pipes had been produced from the trunk of one of the parked cars. What really worried Jesse, though, was the indecisive face that the men wore before reaching into said trunk. It was like they were _shopping_. Jesse tried not to imagine what else lay hidden in the trunk of the clean, black Cadillac.  
  
After his throat-burning fight for air, Jesse realized that the gang appeared to be holding back. Darnell, who had been watching the progress from his perch on the hood of a car, smiled and stood up. "Don't get too comfortable queers, that was just the preview," he announced, stepped closer.  
  
Jesse heaved for air despite the pain that coursed through him with each expansion of his ribs. His shoulder was warm, perhaps from blood or infection, and his raw wrists pressed into the rough rope. Jesse glanced to his left at Steve. The detective was swaying, probably suffering from the dizziness that his damaged right eye was causing. Jesse noticed the way Steve avoided putting pressure on his left knee and winced thinking about the injury that must be there.  
  
"What do you want?" Steve asked with a twinge of worry in his voice. If Jesse had been able to catch his breath, he would have joined in the questioning.  
  
"What I want is to wipe scum like you off the face of the earth. You don't belong here, perverting innocent people into participating in your filth!" Darnell landed a punch to Steve's jaw, bouncing the detective's head against the wall.  
  
"Would it help... if we told you... we're not gay?" Jesse panted, wanting to draw the attention away from his friend.  
  
"Your actions have already announced you for what you are," Darnell growled, moving to stand in front of Jesse. "I saw the way you two look at each other, touch each other, and it's disgusting!" Darnell was so close to Jesse's face that the doctor could see his reflection in Darnell's cold eyes.  
  
"What are you talking-" Jesse started but was interrupted when Darnell swung around and ripped one of the three-foot lengths of pipe from its possessor's arms. He whirled, bringing the pipe cracking against Jesse's left hip in a blind movement of rage. The pain exploded upon impact and the force of the blow bounced Jesse off the concrete behind him. His body went numb then gave way to an intense feeling of pins and needles. Belatedly, Jesse whimpered in pain.  
  
"Darnell!" Steve yelled, the sound echoing through the dark garage. "Untie me you coward and fight like a man!"  
  
Darnell stood still, panting as his wild eyes darted between the short, bloody doctor and the lanky bruised detective. The garage was silent for a moment before he handed the pipe to it's previous owner. "Finish them," he ordered, then turned and headed to his place on the hood of his car.

o0O0o

"Alright people, let's move out!"  
  
Mark breathed a sigh of relief as a flurry of guns and badges took to their cars. The police captain had been monitoring the screen of the tracking unit, following on a printed map where the car was going. Amanda had been taken upstairs to view the bloody mess in the bedroom. Mark stayed close to offer quiet comfort. He silently agreed with her report that there was too much blood. If Jesse didn't get help soon...  
  
"Dr. Sloan, you're riding with me," the captain shouted over the numerous sirens. The marked cars quickly sped onto the highway with organized grace, leaving dusty clouds in their wake. Mark nodded as he and Amanda followed the captain. He would have preferred if Amanda stay, but he knew that nothing on earth could stop her from being there for Jesse any more than Mark could be held back from his son. Only somewhat reluctantly, he made room for her in the back seat as the unmarked police car joined it's pack in pursuit of their pray.

o0O0o

Jesse's head hanged limply with the weighted pain of a broken nose. Blood dripped past his lips and to the ground, splattering in the dust and insect remains. His ears were ringing and his hands were numb. His tailbone was numb from repeated impact with the unforgiving concrete. All in all, he was one giant mass of pain.  
  
And now they were pulling out sharp, reflective knives.  
  
Jesse swallowed a lump in his tight throat and turned his head to look at Steve. The detective wasn't fairing much better under the abuse. Jesse began to worry when Steve continued looking straight ahead. Jesse tried to see what Steve was staring at but all he saw was Darnell's smug form perched atop his car. Maybe Steve had taken one too many blows to the head. Jesse shivered at the thought. His gaze dropped in defeat and that's when he saw it.  
  
Ever so faintly, a red light flashed rhythmically under Darnell's car, gently illuminating the ground under the tires. The approaching blades were momentarily forgotten as Jesse watched the blinking light with renewed hope. The car had been tagged. Help was on the way. Jesse focused his energy into breathing in time with the light, which was blinking as steadily as a heartbeat.  
  
A sharp, stinging pain burned through his thigh and Jesse looked down to find a knife buried in his leg up to the hilt. An internal ache told him that the blade had scraped his femur. Already dangling by his wrists, there wasn't much else Jesse could do to lessen his pain. A hot feeling spread from his wound and down his pant leg and he wondered when he would run out of blood. More importantly, he wondered when the cavalry would arrive. If they would get there in time. He prayed upon the tiny, blinking red light as if it were the north star.  
  
A pained grunt met his ears and Jesse turned to see the tattooed man release his grip, revealing a knife in Steve's right shoulder. Jesse spit out some blood before attempting to call out to Steve.  
  
His weak attempt earned him a solid blow to the jaw. The bones in his hip grated together with the force of the impact. His bitten tongue found a loose tooth and Jesse winced. The light was still blinking.  
  
Becoming unnerved by the staring captives, Darnell rose to his feet and approached the bound men. "You sick freak, what are you staring at?" he shouted as he grabbed Steve's throat.  
  
Steve blinked then, his zone out broken by the enraged man's squeezing grip on his windpipe. "Nothing..." Steve choked out with a breath of precious air.   
  
Darnell reached behind him and pulled out Steve's own police issue gun. "You're disgusting! Give me one reason I shouldn't kill you now," Darnell spat, pressing the gun into Steve's temple.  
  
Steve blinked, and Jesse held his breath in burning lungs. A million smart-assed comments ran through Jesse's mind, but he settled for the truth. "'Cuz any minute now...this place will be... crawling with cops..." Jesse finished breathlessly. The world went dark for a moment and Jesse looked to the ceiling, wondering if the power had fluctuated.  
  
The gang's small step backwards wasn't lost on Jesse as Darnell, frozen in place, said, "What?"  
  
Jesse licked an alarming amount of blood from his lips. "You heard me," he panted.   
  
"Jess," Steve rasped, looking at the doctor with his one good eye, "Shut up."  
  
Darnell released his hold on the detective and walked to the doctor. "No, go on. I want to hear this," he said with causality.  
  
Jesse looked at the blinking light and realized his mistake. If Darnell knew that the police were on their way, he would have them killed immediately. 'Me and my big mouth,' Jesse sighed inwardly.  
  
"Well, hot stuff?"   
  
Jesse held his tongue, praying something would come to mind. He looked between Steve and the bad guys, knowing they were at the end of the line. There was a sneaking suspicion that the blood in his mouth was crawling up his throat from his injured lungs. Steve looked horrible with one black eye swollen shut, one leg bent in an unnatural place, and a knife embedded in his shoulder. The gang however, looked as fresh as if they had spent the morning playing a friendly round of golf. There was no way either Steve or Jesse would survive much more abuse.  
  
Slowly Darnell rose the run to aim at Steve, while keeping his eyes glued to Jesse's still form. "What's the matter, nothing else to say?"  
  
The gun cocked.  
  
Jesse swallowed.  
  
The small red light was still blinking.  
  
Darnell pulled the trigger.


	10. Chapter 10

"I've called an ambulance," Amanda said as she snapped her cell phone shut.  
  
Mark lay a reassuring hand on her knee and was rewarded with a small smile. "Just pray we don't need more."  
  
"They're fine Mark, like the captain said, Steve's a great cop. I'm sure he's got everything under control. Jesse's probably even fighting him off."  
  
Mark smiled a little, but it was short lived. The police captain shouted orders to the other units on his radio, then threw the hand piece to the floor in order to grip the steering wheel with both hands. Mark had known the captain ever since he was appointed as such, and both he and Steve looked up to the man. Time and again, he had bent the rules in Steve's favor and let it be known that his top priority was with his men.  
  
"The building is being surrounded. Darnell is holed up in the parking garage. You two are to remain in this car, period! Understood?"  
  
Mark and Amanda nodded as they took in the large buildings around them. Mark had only once been this far into the warehouse district, and he had never been fond of going back. Now, as the sedan screeched to a halt amongst the dozen other police cars, Mark's main worry was over his sons. His gaze traveled towards the dark opening of the parking garage that tunneled under the massive stone building. The police cars were all parked with their noses to the entrance, like a pack of terriers driving a rodent to ground. Red and blue lights swirled silently atop of abandoned vehicles.  
  
Mark watched as the large group of officers melted against the building and slid inside silently. Guns were drawn and hand signals flashed from one rank to the next before Mark could no longer see them in the darkness. He opened the car door and stepped out.  
  
"Mark!" Amanda hissed. "What are you doing?"  
  
Mark cast her a quick glance. "They need a doctor. They need me." He took a deep breath and looked at her again. "You stay here until it's safe."   
  
Amanda scooted across the seat. "And let you have all the fun? I don't think so!"  
  
Mark knew she would follow. "Stay close to me," he told her as she stood beside him.  
  
Together they crept into the shadows as the police had done moment before. Mark's stomach cramped in nervousness as they pressed their backs to the wall. This would all be over in a matter of minutes and he hoped that Steve and Jesse were both alright.

o0O0o

"What the hell-" Darnell cursed, lowering the gun and ejecting the clip. "What kind of police officer carries a gun with no bullets?"   
  
Jesse opened his eyes. Darnell threw the useless gun to the ground. Steve was still alive. Jesse looked his friend up and down, fearing a bullet hole but saw none. Was it possible that they had finally been smiled upon in this nightmare?  
  
"No matter," Darnell continued, reaching inside his jacket. "I've got a spare."  
  
A sick feeling coiled inside Jesse. There was no way that same luck could spare them twice. He watched as Darnell pulled out the clip, grinned, and shoved it back in the gun. The rest of the gang held back like weary wolves. Jesse swallowed more blood as his eyes slipped to the car. Damn light. He watched it blink three times before turning away. He felt his neck pop from the movement.   
  
"Alright cop, game's over. Say goodbye to your buddy. You'll meet soon enough," Darnell grinned as he raised his own gun to Steve.  
  
Jesse looked at Steve and felt tears threaten to fall. So many unspoken words traveled between them that Jesse was sure time had stopped. Mostly, there was the feeling of strong love, shared by people whose souls had connected. There was some regret, in the form of failure, and a little pain. Jesse looked deep into eyes as blue as his own and prepared to say goodbye.  
  
"Police! Freeze!"  
  
Jesse jumped as the loud order echoed through the garage. Quickly emerging from the shadows like angels, half of the police force trained their guns on Darnell and his thugs. The hired help dropped their weapons like they were Cotton Mouth snakes and stood stiff-shouldered, awaiting the next order. Darnell however, refused to give in so easily.  
  
"You drop your weapons or I'll shoot him!"  
  
Darnell remained with his back to the police, his steady aim still on Steve. Jesse looked back to the police.  
  
"I don't think so Darnell. We've got you surrounded. Where are you going to go? You shoot him and you're a dead man."  
  
Jesse looked back to Darnell, blinking away the unconsciousness that clouded his vision. The big bald man seemed to be thinking about his situation. For a moment, Jesse stopped breathing as Darnell's hand tightened on the gun. The entire group of police took a step forward, their hands also tightening.  
  
Darnell seemed at war with himself. His shoulders began to shake, and soon the tremors traveled down his arms and into his once-sure aim. So suddenly that everyone in the garage flinched, Darnell threw his hands out to the side in surrender.  
  
The officers charged forward, the tension having melted away suddenly. The dim parking garage became a flurry of activity as Darnell and his gang were handcuffed and led unceremoniously out the entrance. Jesse felt himself fall as the tension on his wrists broke away.  
  
"Easy there," Amanda murmured and Jesse wondered how she got there. Had he really died?  
  
Hands were on him, steadying him as he slid down the concrete to the ground. The edges of his vision were darkening again and he felt lightheaded.  
  
"You're gonna be okay now Jess." Amanda's soothing voice came from somewhere above him and further away, shouts were directing an ambulance. He felt a hand on his chin and looked up into warm brown eyes. It wasn't a dream. They had really made it. Jesse looked over to Steve and saw Mark bent over the detective, smiling sadly and talking.  
  
Relief washed over Jesse suddenly, easing his pain and dropping him into welcome oblivion.  
  
The light was still blinking.

o0O0o

Beep...beep...beep   
  
Code four to the ER, code four...  
  
Jesse jumped. "I'm on it!" he mumbled before he was fully conscious. He started to roll over when pain shot through almost every part of him, halting his movement.  
  
"No you're not, young man."  
  
A gentle voice and firm hand guided him back against the mattress before Jesse finally blinked open his eyes. The beeping was coming from a familiar heart monitor parked next to his head and the voice and hand belonged to Dr. Mark Sloan. Jesse's brow furrowed in thought as he swallowed, even that small movement causing him pain. "What's-"  
  
"You were shot and kidnapped Jess. Steve was with you. Do you remember?"  
  
Jesse started to raise a hand and found it connected to clear IV tubing. An IV catheter was securely taped in place above his vein, feeding nutrients to his weary body. His wrist was bandaged. He let his hand fall back to his side as he looked down at his shoulder. Underneath the hospital gown, a white bandage had also been taped securely to his skin concealing the stitches he knew would be there. He sighed. He hated hospital gowns.  
  
"Where's Steve?" he asked, wincing at the rawness in the back of this throat. His mouth was painfully dry and tasted strongly of blood. "He okay?"  
  
A cup and straw appeared before him. "Drink slow. You know the drill," Mark's gentle voice chided. "Steve will be okay. He's getting his leg set. Would you mind a roommate?"  
  
Jesse tried to smile but everything hurt too much. "That'd be great."  
  
Mark put a hand over Jesse's. "You wanna play a game?"  
  
Jesse snorted and regretted it when an invisible force pressed on his ribs. "You mean the one where I diagnose myself... and you tell me how accurate I was?"  
  
"That'd be the one," Mark smiled and pressed a new set of numbers into the IV pump.  
  
Jesse sighed very slowly. "Okay, uh...broken nose?" he asked and only then became aware of the stiff bandage over his nose.  
  
"Keep going," Mark encouraged.  
  
Jesse blinked away some tears from the bright fluorescent lights above his head. "Gunshot wound, of course," he added slowly.  
  
"You should be a doctor," Mark teased quietly.  
  
Jesse smiled. "Cracked ribs?"   
  
"Three cracked, one broken."  
  
"Punctured lung?"   
  
Mark sighed wearily, the 'game' having lost it's humor. "Of course."  
  
"Hey, it was a lead pipe."  
  
Mark winced. "Sorry."  
  
"Don't be." Jesse closed his eyes and tried to localize the pain. "Stab wound, requiring stitches."   
  
"Seven."  
  
"My lucky number." He was missing something... Jesse opened his eyes. "My hip?"  
  
"Fractured. You were lucky." Mark's warm hand rubbed a soothing circle over Jesse's. "You're good at that game."  
  
"I had a good teacher."  
  
Mark held up a small zip-lock bag. "You missed one."  
  
Jesse struggled to focus on the contents. "Aw man, my tooth?" he whined, letting his eyes slip shut.  
  
"Don't worry, we fixed you up," Mark chuckled, leaving the bag on the bedside table.  
  
"How's Steve, really?"  
  
"He's got one monster of a shiner, stab wound to the shoulder, a few cracked ribs and a badly broken leg."  
  
"Walk in the park, then."  
  
Mark laughed and patted Jesse's arm. As if on cue, there was a knock on the door and a nurse entered the room backwards, helping to steer a gurney into the room. Jesse waited until the patient was wheeled into place before turning his head to look at the detective. "Hi-ya Steve."  
  
Bleary eyes met Jesse's. "Hey."  
  
"Nice cast."  
  
"Thanks. I picked it out."  
  
Jesse couldn't help but smile. "Can I sign it?"   
  
"You can pay for it."  
  
Mark stood up. "Alright kids, you'd better get your rest. Amanda is planning a nice, long visit with the both of you later and you'll need your strength. She was really worried about you two." After a moment of silence, he added, "We both were."  
  
Steve raised his left hand and Mark held it for a moment, savoring the contact. He smiled then, and took a breath. "Okay, you go to sleep now. We'll talk later."   
  
Mark moved to the doorway and turned off the lights, then paused for a few seconds and reassured himself that both men were indeed alive and would soon be well. Then with a smile, he shut the door and left them in the peace and quiet.  
  
Jesse lay in the darkness for a moment, teetering at the edge of sleep before Steve's voice woke him up.  
  
"Jess?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"You did good today."  
  
"Thanks." Sleep was making it hard to form sentences but there would be plenty of time for that later.   
  
"Jess?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"You're never helping me on another case ever again."  
  
"Thanks."

Finish


End file.
